"We have doctors. For God's sake, man, help me get them aboard. There's no time to stand here talking. We have advanced techniques, if I can only get there in time, that may mean the difference between life and death...."
The major hesitated. "All right. You two soldiers—take the girl up the ladder."
"Herb, too," the Oligarch said. "If he survives, he will be tried."
The major grunted at two more soldiers.
George followed them up the ladder. He greeted the capture of Herb with bitterness. The game was over; he had been denied the excitement of it being played out. And yet there was relief: although he had once more been thrust into a role of player, it was not of his own volition. The conspiracy of events had released him from free choice. It was not his fault that it was necessary to remove Herb prematurely from the arena. He was uncomfortably aware that the major was following him.
Inside the ship, George directed the soldiers to put their burdens in the first compartment to the left. Then he turned to the major. "Your prompt action may well have saved her life." He was tense and frightened. Now that he was sure it would be reported that a girl had been returned to the ship and hurried to medical attention, it was of paramount importance to get the soldiers and the major out of the ship. If Norma were unexpectedly to recover and begin to talk, the major might prove difficult to handle.
The crush of danger hung upon him. An instant, in which he wished to surrender and confess, was transplanted by dedication to victory. The sense of mission returned.
"I don't think I should permit you to leave, sir," the major said politely. "I've thought it over."
"Sir?"